"Why are all the lights out?" he exclaimed. "Who's there?" for there was light enough from the hall for him to see Drake dimly.
"All right; it's I," said Drake quietly. "Turn up the lights. There are burglars. Don't shout; you'll frighten the ladies. Get the bicycle lamp from my room—quick!"
Sparling tore into the room, and came dashing out with the lamp, and, with trembling hands, lit it.
"Drop it down to me when I call," said Drake. "I'll risk its going out. Then get some of the men and search the grounds. And—mind!—no frightening the ladies!"
Then he lowered himself, dropped, and called up. He caught the lamp, which was still alight, and covering the glass with his hand, ran in the direction the men had taken; and as he ran he buttoned his dress coat over the big patch of white made by his wide shirt front.
He had stalked big game often enough to be aware that his only chance of tracking the thieves lay in his following them quietly and unseen, and he ran on tiptoe, and keeping as much as possible among the shrubs as he went, his ears and eyes strained attentively, he endeavored to put himself in their place.
"Yes," he muttered, "they'll make for the road, where there'll be a trap waiting for them—or bicycles; but which part of the road?"
The park fence was high, but easily climbable by an experienced burglar, and they might make for it at any point; presumably the nearest.
By this time he was cool enough, but extremely angry; and he blamed himself for falling so easily into the string trap. What he ought to have done——At this point in his futile reflections he stopped and listened, not for the first time, and he fancied he heard a rustling among the trees in front of him. He ran on as softly as possible, and presently saw a figure—one only—going swiftly in the direction of the lodge.
Drake understood in a moment; one man had gone to bring the vehicle near the gates, and this other man was waiting for it.